Dark Souls: Lords of the First Flame
by TJMike
Summary: Cyan, a knight of Berenike, has been made prisoner in the Undead Asylum. The last he knew, was being part of an escort mission for Lady Verenis of Berenike. Now he must find out what happened to him, and to his unit. On the way, he'll find new challenges, meet new companions, and face the ultimate decision that will shake the known world and will resonate for the ages to come.


**Hello and welcome everybody to a new story! This time I'll bring you a Dark Souls fanfic. Basically this'll be the story of the Chosen Undead as he travels to be the one to link the Fire... Or to be The Lord of Darkness. Anyways, a few general notes before I forget about it...**

 **1) I do not own Dark Souls, just my OC's**

 **2) You know my english is not the best out there, so my friend ParradoxUniverse takes the credit for editing and any correction made to the chapter. Now go to her profile and thank her :)**

 **3)If this story is succesful enough, I may go with a similar story about DS II and Bloodborne (I'll wait until an enhanced version of DS III comes out to make a story about it)**

 **Now that's out of the way, read, enjoy, review and tell me what you think. TJ out.**

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Darkness...

It was the only thing that the knight, who sat in the corner of the narrow cell, could see; barely illuminated by a beam of light that passed through the small hatch on the ceiling.

He knew not how he came to be in there.

The last thing he remembered was being ambushed when his squad passed by one of the so called Undead Asylum. Although Cyan was convinced that the word 'Asylum' was nothing more than a euphemism to say that if somebody was found branded with the Dark Sign, the clerics of the Way of White would send him to this prison.

"How on earth did I end up here?" Cyan asked to himself.

He removed one of his gloves and looked at his hand. This single view confirmed his suspicions: his arms were extremely skinny, giving a glimpse of the bones that made up his hands. The coloration of his body was unnatural; it was an odd tint of red rather than his normal skin tone. He sighed deeply; this was the _normal_ color of those that have turned into the Undead. He didn't even bother checking his reflection in the small bucket nearby. He knew he wouldn't be able to recognize the being that he would see.

It didn't take him long to figure out that the door was locked, he deduced that the lock was strong enough to withstand anything he threw at it, that was assuming he still he had any of his gear, somebody must have removed it from him when he was unconscious.

However; as the wise men would say: _The gods acts in mysterious ways_

As Cyan tried to figure out a means of escape he heard a noise that he recognized on the rooftop of the cell. When he looked up he saw a knight was crouched atop of the skylight looking back at him. The stranger was wearing a complete set of armor. Yet despite the pride Cyan took in recognizing most of the coats of arms from the various realms and families across the world, his eyes, now adapted to the darkness of the room couldn't distinguish the knight before him.

"You need to get out of here, my friend." the stranger said quietly.

He paid obvious attention to something on his side, just out of Cyan's line of sight.

"Who are you?" Cyan asked curiously, his eyes still desperately trying to adjust to the outside light, "I can see that you are a knight, just as I, but only that."

"That isn't important right now" was the swift and immediate reply.

His hands dipped quickly to his side before he took something and dropped it through the small hatch. It fell to Cyan's feet and after quickly checking it over he found that it was a rough leather bag. The prisoner poured out its content, the hope of his gear flashing through his mind for a split second, only to find a broken sword and a rusted key. "As I said, you need to get out of here."

"I guess this it's better than nothing." noted Cyan said as he examined the half-sword. He was pleased to see that it still retained a sharp edge, it certainly wasn't his personal saber but it was better than a majority of the weapons he could find in this place, "You haven't even given me your name yet, you should at least grant me the satisfaction of knowing the name of the man who saved me. If that's what you're doing here." he said. Cyan might been a rookie knight, but he was clever. And knowing this stranger name may prove useful in the future.

"Tell you what. If you make it out of here, we can introduce each other properly" growled the knight with a slight scowl spread across his face.

A mischievous smirk wormed its way onto Cyan's face.

"Fair enough. Now that I think about it, it'd be rather pointless to know each other's names if there is a chance one of us dies before we meet again." Cyan reasoned. The other knight simply nodded and stood up.

"I will be at the nearby bonfire inside the Asylum until the sun sets. As of now…" the knight trailed off as he looked up to the sky, "…you have three hours; give or take one hour. If you manage to be there by that time then I will tell you what I know. If you're not... well..." he gave a dark chuckle but the message was clear.

"Yeah, I understand. In that case, I'll be on my way." Cyan replied.

With that, the knight on the rooftop walked away, leaving Cyan with the necessary tools to go out and defend himself against whatever hides in this place. The rusted key fit roughly into the lock of his door but with some effort he pushed the rusted door open and held the barely legible sword as if it were a long dagger; with the blade upside down in order to use its size and shape in the fastest way.

It seemed that his cell was located at the end of a large hallway, and almost immediately he found another resident of the Undead Asylum. This one however wore nothing but a small rag that covered the essential parts; the only sounds that came from it were almost inaudible grunts directed to the solid stone wall. He had read the stories and heard enough tales to know that if he killed an undead; it would just come back to life shortly after, each time losing a fragment of it's mind. Until there was nothing left of the human who once was, becoming what most people known as a Hollow.

But this guy... it appeared as though he still retained some of its previous memories, as from time to time he could hear him murmur various words about dolls and prisons, among others that Cyan couldn't understood and probably wouldn't comprehend if he could.

 _"Alright Cyan, deep breaths, scan the area at all times and only attack if you get attacked first."_ thought the knight as he remembered his training.

The undead seemed to be ignoring him completely, much to the knight's relief. Despite being a knight for such a short time and having been given orders to kill any undead on the spot; he didn't see too much sense in doing it now that he too was his own target. Eventually, he reached a room without an exit, that was until he saw a steel ladder and climbed up.

When he got to the upper level; Cyan found himself in a yard with a pair of large wooden doors. The knight of Berenike expected to them to lead him to the exit but before he could confirn that, a curious looking object in the center of the yard caught his eye: a sword stuck in what appeared to be a pile of dust.

He'd heard rumors of these things: some said that this swords appeared from nowhere and that it represented the end of the Age of Fire. Others stated that it was the First Flame's last effort to not disappear.

However, the most crazed rumors included the ruler of Anor Londo, Lord Gwyn, and his crusade to prevent the Age of the Gods from ending.

Regardless of what was fact and what was fiction, Cyan was in front of one of these 'bonfires' that the people talked so much of these days. He wasn't sure what to believe about these artifacts but as he got closer the knight could see that the substance holding the blade in place was actually a pile of human bones and ash.

 _"Did someone burn humans to make these? That is sickening."_ Cyan thought as he examined the pile of human remains.

For a brief moment, he could only watch as tiny embers swirled near the buried tip of the sword, dancing in a manner he found most tempting. This caused an idea to cross his mind, the likes of which he would have to be slightly crazy to follow.

With a slight hesitation, he slowly extended his hand toward the hilt of the blade...


End file.
